Settling is an Unsettling word

Lately I’ve been questioning everything trying desperately to determine where my stance is on a multitude of subjects. To no avail and much to my disarray.

Romance has especially been on my mind as I have not been in a defined relationship since the boyfriend I had right after my divorce was final 4 years ago. Everything since has been “casual”, but I’m starting to rethink this whole entire process. Are there really ever no strings attached since we are not labeling our relationships or are we just closing our eyes so we can ignore the cold hard facts that we are indeed sharing a part of our souls with another that we cannot ever get back?

It is so much safer to not set clear perimeters that way there are no expectations, but that doesn’t assure that there still won’t be disappointment. Actual relationships or these “quasi relationships” hurt you the same exact way. Just perhaps the intensity is not at the same level of severity thereby having the propensity for emotional devastation. The seemingly less sharp end of the double edged sword. The safer of the two options.
It’s easier to put yourself out there knowing you have a “Get Out of Jail Free” card stuck in your back pocket since you are not “technically” together.

Time and time again I have heard the same pathetic line of “I’m not ready for a real relationship right now”…. Well who is? No one can sit there and say “Why yes I have determined at this very moment that I am indeed ready for monogamy!” and proceed to go out immediately and date someone with the intent of marriage. It’s like having a baby- you can either think you are or think you are not ready but ultimately it just happens, and it happens purely on its own time-frame and agenda.

Like the great John Lennon said “Life is what happens to you while you are making other plans”.

It’s like craving sugar but not allowing yourself to enjoy it, so instead you only consume artificial sweetener in an effort to trick the subconscious into believing we have gotten what we wanted.
But it’s not what we actually want…
However most do not want to admit that.
Ignorance is bliss~ after all!

I’ve had quite a few options in these past few months where men wanted to be serious with me but for one reason or the other I ran the other direction…?! Sometimes it was big red flags that I determined to refuse ignoring (things I saw in my previous abusive relationships where a controlling nature was the first sign), or feelings of a more platonic nature instead of romantic. Although I do have to wonder if perhaps I pushed myself away from these seemingly great guys since I am not actually ready. My insanely busy life with college resuming, my sweet autistic son that I am raising/have raised pretty much entirely on my own (even when I was married), and the fact I developed such a thick independent skin from all the traumatic things that happened to me.

The walls I constructed were done in order for protection to keep me from potentially landing myself back into a boat unequipped with a life-saver so that I will Never drown again just like in my past. Thankfully I was able to abandon that ship and safely rescue myself. Call me crazy I am not looking for some “Knight in Shining Armor” to sweep in and think he is “Fixing” me and my sometimes chaotic filled life because Let’s face it:
Life is never that easy. Life is never going to be 100% great all the time Sorry! After all marriage vows they do not say “Through Good times Only”- No the line is “Through Good times AND Bad times”. And yes I’ll admit that my life is not always perfect. It’s chock full of a LOT of sacrifices and plenty of hardships that I’ve endured, But you know what…?
This life is MINE!

I took it for myself leaving an atrocious situation and surviving that also plenty of others to come in the future. I DID!
With that came feelings of Strength but then also Fear.

Fear to let someone fully into my heart and life as what I am most fearful of (and rarely even speak of) is that I will end up with another abusive man and let him consistently steal my sunshine again.
No doubt you’ve heard the expression “Don’t let anyone Dull your Sparkle”- and that is what happened to me. I became so entrenched in trying to be the “perfect wife” so I wouldn’t be screamed at within an inch from my face and intimidated by the wall being punched by my face. I tried. I did. I was hit and abused in other ways daily. But then I just stopped trying. I wanted to push him away because every time I would get strong and believe in myself he Hated that and would look for ways to tear me back down so that he could better manipulate and then throw me to the ground.

It has taken a long time to gain that perspective, but it is indeed a precious gem that once discovered you do not ever want to lose again!
So very precious and earned-  to learn and know that you Do indeed deserve happiness. It can be very hard to comprehend at first since victims of abuse are generally left beaten and feel in shambles until we start the climb up from the ground.

Oh how very beautiful the view is so once you reach the top!

YES more talk about Rape!

My recent posts have primarily been focused on sexual abuse as I adamantly feel that by not speaking out about the topic then we inadvertently are contributing to the dismal lack of awareness on this imperative matter.

Every single horrific experience in my past shaped me into a stronger person as I survived those events despite the wave of devastation they caused. Did you know it is customary procedure for a rape victim to be admitted into a psychiatric ward for the evening after having a rape kit done in order to be on suicide watch? I hadn’t known that- not until I was told by my nurse that they felt I didn’t need to. In fact it was around 4 am when all was said and done at the hospital and my friends that said they would pick me up did not answer their phones unfortunately. So I took a cab home by myself in the early morning darkness back to the scene of the crime- which was my own house. If that doesn’t scream strength then honestly I don’t know what on earth does?!

Here is a chilling excerpt of the “awareness” we have:

“Republican nominee for Senate Richard Mourdock’s recent “misspeaking” is unexceptional. Despite what he may have meant when he said “even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape that… is something God intended to happen,” he is unexceptional.”
A fair reflection of our cultural tolerance, one without party affiliation, for rape and its qualifications— “Legitimate rape” versus non legitimate rape. “Forcible rape” as “stock language,” “lemons from lemonade.” Women “should make the best of a bad situation,” “horribly created gifts from God,” husbands can’t rape their wives, because of science and technology no woman ever needs an abortion, “emergency rape,”women lie about rape legislation, “honest rape,” rape blackmail, “the sodomized virgin” rape, rape is like auto theft. But, again, all of this goes hand-in-hand with Facebook rape pages, Daniel Tosh rape jokes, Reddit rapist threads, music, videos, movies, ad infinitum.”
(retrieved online via http://www.huffingtonpost.com/soraya-chemaly/50-facts-rape_b_2019338.html)

I realized after 12 years of repressing memories that I had been sexually violated more times than I had even realized! And the scariest part of being in my previous ignorance was an evening when I had a traumatic nightmare painfully revealing that my own ex had raped me several times as I said NO and his response was “That’s MY S**t!” and refused to stop. I have a multitude of stories that I won’t get into right now as my body physiologically responds with redness and flushing heat to my cheeks along with red heated blotchy marks all over my chest with intense panicked tightening. Breathing becomes labored. Faintness upon standing ensues as I just walked to get some water. I always ask myself Why, Why, WHY….? So many brutal questions that I cannot fathom an answer to as I do not fully understand the rhyme or reason to it all….

Bad things happen to good people all the time they say, however that is not a means of comfort in the least bit. I don’t know about other PTSD sufferers but I find it extremely difficult to cry when I think or talk about what has happened to me in my past. Crying is a healthy way provided by nature in order to help you release negative energy from your soul. No matter how hard I try mine seems to grasp on to the pain, and I find myself unable to muster the courage to attempt letting it go.

 Join me in standing up and putting our voices together boldly speaking with heads held high. My intended goal is to help women navigate through this excruciating minefield, and empower them to report these crimes so charges can be pressed! No more Silence! I did even though nothing came to fruition as there was not enough evidence (I was drugged), and then my rapist died before the corroborating witness that finally came forward could get my case reopened. It’s not about vengeance- It’s the deserved right to have justice! No more Victims- let’s become Victors!

Every voice matters- I implore you to awaken yours too!

Karma (ahhh)

They say you cannot truly love someone else until you truly love yourself.
Today I can say with unwavering certainty that I love the woman I have become.

Physically I know I can survive anything as comparing the excruciating process of natural childbirth dwarfs anything else; however emotional pain was/is always an uphill battle like trying to gain control of momentum on a roller coaster. The name of my roller coaster was Husband. The terror of the ride still haunts me. I remember with perfect clarity so many times he stood over me laughing at his own destruction and making a mockery out of my pain. I would be curled up in a ball laying in the fetal position on the floor of our bathroom (the designated spot I chose and went to countless times) crying so hard I would vomit gasping for air barely able to breathe. Eventually 10-30 minutes or so later he’d come in laughing, pull me up on my feet, hug me, and then say a derogatory comment while still laughing condescendingly.

Then, with a smile on his face and amusement in his voice, he’d tear me down even further. It was almost like foreplay for him. He enjoyed it. Sometimes, he would even become sexually aroused, and it sickens me to think of what I unwillingly permitted more often than not to happen.

Looking back now, my own tolerance and permissiveness, sickens me. Why didn’t I leave?! Why did I stay? I tried to bury some of those atrocities deep down inside myself, in an effort to block it out and forget. But I didn’t forget.  His abuse planted seeds of self-hatred and self-doubt so deep in my soul…. seeds that I let him plant and I let grow inside of me. Then drastically grew into an overpowering entity of bitter resentment eating me inside and out. The longer I avoided facing the pain I’d been through, the more overwhelming the bitterness and resentment became. You never forget pain like that.

I realized, I don’t have to avoid it anymore. I can’t.

I do not wish to hate the father of my child and would never wish that upon my worst enemy, but here I was sitting 3 years post divorce letting his cruelty haunt my usually happy demeanor with flashbacks from the past. I have decided to accept what I cannot change and acknowledge my own fault in that I allowed myself to be abused so long without standing up for myself. Most people go into Fight or Flight response but instead I went into a state closely resembling a kicked puppy dog whimpering with a tail in-between it’s legs. I let it happen over and over again. I did allow myself to be demeaned, but Not anymore.

“The only thing that is ultimately real about your journey is the step that you are taking at this moment. That’s all there ever is.”
~Eckhart Tolle

Today the ongoing battle of custody/child support came to a climactic conclusion. The dreaded court case that made me lose so much sleep and gain so many new grey hairs is now finally over! I was petrified that I would fall to pieces and directly on my face. Not the case in this case however. I held my head up high even while being cross examined by the devil incarnate himself in the courtroom, and ended up winning everything I asked to be paid. Heck- I could have even asked for more and most likely would have been granted it, but I am perfectly content knowing that I finally got a piece of the delicious karmic pie I’ve been desiring to taste for so long now. Like a stranded traveler in the desert starving for water who constantly only saw mirages. Only this time I got to savor it for real and it left such a sweet aftertaste in my mouth.

Every single horrific experience in my past shaped me into a stronger person as I survived each and every single one of those moments even when doubt came to mind if I could withstand it all. Every so often I have those moments of clarity in life where the stars align and I can finally feel an overpowering urge of utter joy bursting at the seams. I want to jump up and down or twirl around dancing today knowing I took action and changed things for the better for my son and I.

My life is exactly where it should be and I am exactly who I should be. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses. I know myself finally. Who could ask for anything more?

I don’t Need anyone But that doesn’t mean I don’t Want anyone

I try to not ever let my sweet son see me cry…
Currently he is pressed up against me laying across my chest and I’m crying the sort of tears that roll down your face but remain silent. Only the sound of my chest heaving and gasping for small breaths are heard (I mastered this in my previous marriage learning how to cry this way unseen so that I wouldn’t be laughed at, openly mocked, and of course so that my little man wouldn’t see me break down). Today though my back has broken. I awaited his gastrointestinal surgeries with no sleep, no hand to hold, no shoulder to cry on, and only support via Facebook friends after posting a status.

Being back at All Children’s Hospital yet again as I previously have gone for less invasive procedures by myself, but now surgery having him undergo actual anesthesia has shattered me to my very core. It flashed me back to being in this same surgical ward when my nephew was young and had to have a couple surgery’s for a hernia problem. My sister, her husband, his mom, my parents, and I were all there waiting together for this journey. Holding the pager waiting on pins and needles eagerly for the clearance to dash in to recovery with baited breath to see him and make sure our sweet angel was okay. We all sat together biting our nails covered in dread-filled love worrying that something could go wrong. It didn’t thankfully he was just fine. Is that not how it is supposed to be though- family coming together in a time of crisis?
Nope. Not for me. I sat alone in the recovery area before he was brought out and then waited the whole time he was asleep stroking his forehead talking with the post-op nurse.

When I say I had no one I truly had no one. This surgery had been in process for months of being scheduled then rescheduled as to conflicts because I wanted my family, ex-husband, and even his family there too for moral support. I had to cancel last months since it fell on that “2 year mark” of a previously blogged about atrocious traumatic incident that happened to me. Thankfully I was granted a couple days of freedom to embark on a semi grieving stage, so I wasn’t sure if I could even leave him after his recovery; however inquiring if he could be taken care of afterwards without me the answer was a clear resounding NO. I got the green light for the appointment time yesterday and didn’t even bother to message my family again. Every other previous time was filled with excuses and honestly I didn’t feel like being degraded any further begging for a little help. Why should it come to that? Should it not inherently be an unquestioned resounding YES when it comes to a matter of such severity? It’s not just this surgery today- it is all the accumulated weight I have carried these past 5+ years after getting him diagnosed on the autism spectrum having to handle every single thing in that gigantic can of worms on my own. I won’t get into any “woe is me” martyring session here. I have just decided that I don’t think I will ever ask for help again. Not from my family, my ex, his family, or even from my friends. Yes of course we all have busy lives- but when someone I care about is in need of help I literally drop everything to be there if/whenever possible. Apparently expecting others to be there for you through thick and thin when you have been there for them is about as pointless as debating whether the world is flat.

My heart has fallen and shattered into a million pieces and I fear that just like Humpty Dumpty “all the king’s horses and all the king’s men” cannot put me back together again.

Let it be…

Sentimentality…. Oh what a double edged sword you are. On the one hand taking a stroll down memory lane promotes smiles, belly laughs, and a sense of joy from familiar memories. However the flip side of that coin is seeing pictures of yourself remembering how you were faking that smile and vividly can see the pain in your eyes. Or seeing photographs where a series of events play out that led to an eventual disastrous course- the look of joy and happiness in your eyes was real; yet it was soon to be replaced with sorrow.

Friends lost and gained…
Lovers lost and gained…
Jobs, aspirations, marriages, pregnancies, and *fill in the blank of something meaningful to you*
Lost and possibly never regained…

It is all there on your Facebook for a nice emotionally cutting experience.
Why do I/we do it? I know that I have always been the nostalgic scrap-booking kind of gal who enjoys remembering days and evenings that burst and overflowed with laughter and adventures. Even when I was younger I would keep every little momento- down to my first reciprocated loves guitar pic he had flung at me during a “jam session”. The bad times of getting over him passed by long ago, and we actually maintained a friendship that when we talk we end up being on the phone 3-4 hours. Then there’s all my Italy photographs I am able to look at now and only see the beauty (not all the near death stuff) instead of being too afraid scared that all the traumatic scars will reopen.
I am still actively working on getting the pain from my ex-husbands abuse gone (including cheating on me with the teenage girl he recently married) after realizing recently that I am not 100% over it all. These instances however of having my home and body robbed are something that I just currently have no hope of ever being capable of letting go. The pain intensifies and resurfaces frequently and just trying to shove it down and ignore is like putting a band-aid on a bullet-hole wound.

Let it go… those words roll off the tongue so easily from someone who either has no capacity to emphasize or has no one to relate the situation to personally. I would not/could not ever wish this pain upon anyone else- I just wish there was more compassion and less judgement especially when ignorance is the only foundation for no awareness.

I am not afraid to speak now….

Time heals all wounds… Well when?!

“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
-Rose Kennedy

I have to share her sentiment as unfortunately I cannot shake these godawful wounds from having been robbed recently, and now this coming Thursday is when it will be the 2 year mark from when I was robbed and raped. It’s not about the tangible items that were stolen- it’s the part of my soul that feels it can never recover. I was violated in every meaning of the word. By people I trusted. How can I not feel to blame for being so naive to let myself get blindsided? I asked my ex-husband to take our son next Thursday so I can try my best to do some nice things for myself and stay busy so I can desperately try to keep my mind off of the tragedy. His response was “What are you going to make an anniversary out of it?!” laughing at me to my face. I said to him it’s called PTSD have you ever heard of it, plus what if this had happened to someone you actually still loved would you be so callous and have such unemphatic attitude …? His reply was less than cordial.

The wounds from 2 years ago are re-opened even further having recently been victimized. I despise how when you receive your police report and case number you are referred to as a Victim on tangible paper in your face and given information on your Victim’s rights. It’s like an extra jab into your already broken back and heart.

Sometimes I fear that I will never be able to let go of all my traumatic experiences…. Being attacked, nearly killed, and abandoned in Italy, my ex-husband who was abusive constantly but actually hit me for the first time when I was pregnant, and of course the robberies ESPECIALLY the rape. I was never able to press charges on my rapist because I had no corroborating witness since I was rufied, and then he died months ago. That is not justice. I wanted him to pay for what he had stripped me of literally and figuratively speaking.
I have tried everything… counseling, yoga, antidepressants, anti-anxiety medicines, positive reading, But it just isn’t cutting it. Hypnotherapy or Electric shock therapy sounds enticing at this point. This affliction can be debilitating to say the least, and I feel so much that NO one understands. No one that I know of has been through trauma like I have, so I feel absolutely lost most days and find myself just looking for ways to mask it.

Anyone remotely familiar with PTSD knows that anytime someone experiences a “trigger” they can be brought back to that place of horror instantaneously. Oh how I wish I could erase all of this from my psyche like the quote from Alexander Pope:

“How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d”

Perchance to dream. In the meantime I have no other choice than to take care of my sweet autistic son and eagerly await next week when I possibly will have 3 days to myself instead of the normal 1 & 1/2 day per week of freedom. Tie a rope and hold on right….?

Italy knows best

My favorite place in the world is anywhere in Italy. Every chance I get I reference how magical it felt being there, and so I squeeze it into conversation. Well my admiration and affection for this country grew even stronger after seeing this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2OcKQ_mbiQ. An Italian director made a short film asking boys ranging in age from 7-12 to answer questions on various subjects, but then requested actions that inevitably is the focal point of the documentary. “Slap her” they say. “Slap her”. Even after repeated attempts of persuasion the boys adamently refused. Some looked shocked, confused, and even indignant. “NO” was the resounding answer across the board. It didn’t take more than 2 seconds for an affirmative declaration that violence against women is wrong. Here these children know more than grown “men” the fact that practicing abuse in any form towards women is despicable.
What does Italy know that America does not?

According to a 2013 review of available data “35 per cent of women worldwide have experienced either physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence or non-partner sexual violence. However, some national violence studies show that up to 70 per cent of women have experienced physical and/or sexual violence in their lifetime from an intimate partner.” For the full article read: http://www.unwomen.org/en/what-we-do/ending-violence-against-women/facts-and-figures#sthash.sMUUJBA3.dpuf). Also the article: World Health Organization, Global and Regional Estimates of Violence against Women, http://apps.who.int/iris/bitstream/10665/85239/1/9789241564625_eng.pdf,. I find these facts so bitterly saddening. Since I am a victim of domestic and sexual abuse my stomach churns thinking that these numbers are not even accurate as so many women are afraid to come forward. Afraid of the consequences and the social stigma. When I had my rape kit done I was told that one had not been performed in 10 years. That left me disconsolately sorrowful wondering how many women did not come forward and report the abuse since trust me going through that grueling experience was grievous to say the least.

The days of wholesome values seem to have evaporated into a wave of accepted cruelty. The media portrays role models with absolutely no morals or integrity; i.e. musician Chris Brown who beat up girlfriend Rihanna yet still sells his CD’s left and right. NFL star quarterback Michael Vick and three of his associates operated “Bad Newz Kennels,” which housed and trained over 50 pit bull dogs, staged dog fights, dog killing, and they ran a high stakes gambling ring. Convicted of federal and state charges related to illegal dog-fighting; however he remains a star playing in the public eye where idolizing sports figures is dominant in our culture. The connotations examples like these showcase to our children is an appalling impression to ponder. No more “Leave it to Beaver” or “The Waltons” portrayed on TV. Instead we have shows like “Family Guy” where one of the main characters constantly schemes to murder his mother, bestiality, alcoholism, and prevalent violence subconsciously is promoted by the acceptance of this behavior. Sadly this is the horrific and sickening version of society we live in now.

Irretrievably broken…

Those are the words used in divorce proceedings which are effectually efficient in describing the situation; however hearing it and reading it on signed papers is like a knife to the kidney.

My 3 years divorced anniversary was 3 days ago.

The late great actor Robin Williams spoke about it ever so eloquently “Ah, yes, divorce … from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man’s genitals through his wallet.” -Yet to me it has always been about the fatal damage my heart received. My illusions of what “happily ever after” meant were so distorted I may have well been on LSD when imagining them. In my case especially from the abuse I received those blissful dreams had been shattered long before I left and then drawn up those fated papers. How come there was no section to discuss reconciling the psychological damage? Only physical assets were of importance to him but all that mattered to me was my happiness and my sons happiness!

To my divorced friends without children I cannot stress to them enough how lucky they are to not have started a family with the wrong person. As you are still tied to this person until 18+ years you obviously have to continue having contact (which can bring up a lot of atrocious memories). Sometimes I find myself feeling bitter thinking about how I should have taken my entitled 50% of everything per Florida state law; however I just wanted out. I was thinking in a flight or fight mentality and I was too scared to fight… Too scared of him and how he claimed he would never see our son again if I did go after anything. So I didn’t and left the nicest of everything behind to live in squalor basically. The tiniest apartment, no cable, furniture from goodwill, and living on my credit cards since I couldn’t work due to all my sons therapies and the care he needs. I made my bed, laid in it, and grew into so much of a stronger person. And that is more invaluable than anything I had ever owned previously.

the daily struggles of a single mom with a special needs child

I love my son more than life itself despite the setbacks of having him not be able to communicate with me (which of course sometimes absolutely breaks my heart to shreds). Today however was rough. I try to not be bitter; However my lovely Ex-husband and father of my child is currently trying to reduce his child support payments knowing darn well that the 6 & 1/2 days a week I have him make it virtually impossible for me to work given Lincoln’s therapies, constant sicknesses, and the fact that I would need an impossible dream-like set schedule of when he is at school. Not taking into account the summer/winter breaks, the professional days (which he does not ever help out with), and the Incredible amount of sick days he misses school since his often stomach sicknesses made me decide to take him to the best gastrointestinal specialist in the area at All Children’s Hospital. So add in allergists, feeding therapists, and nutritionists (did I mention all by my myself again?), and basic speech, ABA, and occupational therapy I am basically up not just an unfair creek without a paddle but actually a winding river of rapids trying desperately to navigate myself with all the choices, incredible amount of paperwork, research, and etcetera that comes with the territory.

Sometimes I get quite resentful that he has his day & 1/2 of time when they just play and have fun, But then mommy has to be the mean one taking him for skin and blood tests, tons of evaluations to get him into new therapies, and other implementations from the therapies I have learned. Insurance companies don’t want to pay for these in case you weren’t aware. So it is a constant battle of phone calls, paperwork, faxes from specialists, and constant headaches basically trying the absolute best for your child who does not have his own voice but sadly also not another voice from his family. I’m not going to sugarcoat this- it’s disheartening, and some days I feel like throwing my hands into the air and saying “Forget it- he will just continue to exhibit behaviors of a 2-3 year old yet he is 6 & 1/2”.

My normally positive posts are not so glowing tonight instead there is a haze of sadness and hopelessness.

I know there are resources out there (Especially for single moms) but I have no clue where to look or where to begin. Anyone reading this in the Florida area please leave a comment to give me any advice since I fear I am fast approaching the end of my rope.

Yet I have to hang on as there is NO other option for my sweet boy.

Happy (Divorce) Anniversary to me!

Yesterday would have been my 8th wedding anniversary….

In the past I have dreaded this day and would feel ill just thinking about it’s upcoming presence. As much as I have distanced myself emotionally unfortunately those demons of past pain would come back to haunt me annually. I would think about how I knew that day I didn’t want to marry him, but I still put on a fake smile and played the part of the glowing bride. I remember distinctly how people thought I was crying during my vows but actually I was shaking saying the words that I knew were not true in my heart.

It was a beautiful day filled with the brightest blue sky and an invigorating slight chill to the air with the upcoming season change. I had fallen in love with the Ringling museum grounds when I was a preteen so I always knew if I were to be married in Florida that it would be there. After the ceremony having pictures taken of me on the supposedly happiest day of my life was definitely a memory I’ll never forget. Standing in front of the Ca’ d’Zan doing family photos my father in law hugged me and said “Well you just made the most important decision for the rest of your life”- I wanted to puke. The reality set in. The rest of my life?! Oh God what had I done….

Being a photographer I had taken the cherished photos and of course created a scrapbook to commemorate that day. Packing that in a box when I left him was a formidable torturous task to say the least. I have only looked at it twice since then (I decided to keep it so that one day our son can look at it and know that Mommy and Daddy did love each other at one time) but every time I would a wave of deep crushing sadness hit me. Why did this all have to happen?
Oh right because he hit me. Several times. The first time when I was pregnant. However his only confession is to punching me once on my leg and claiming it didn’t count since he didn’t hit my face…

Originally I felt I had no choice other than to marry him and I now had no other choice than to divorce him. I lived in-between a rock and a hard place far too long. So yes instead of it being 8 years married it’ll be 3 years divorced for me (Does Hallmark make a card for that anniversary yet?)- Mazel Tov!!

Thankfully I turned yesterday into an amazing day where I selected my new college to transfer into and was so excited I barely thought about the ex anniversary. Going to college is HUGE for me as every single A+ I get dispels a little more of the phrase that he loved to use about how “useless and stupid“ I am with my “4th grade education” ( I graduated via home-school @15).
I realize of course that I allowed and gave him the ability to make that false statement true to me. I agreed with him and thus these feelings that I was not and never would be good enough became part of my psyche.

Retrospect is such a priceless tool. You have to go through pain in order to find it but once found it is an incomparable, invaluable, and treasured source of strength. I cannot wait for the day after I earn my degrees that I can work with abused women and show them that they too can dig deep into their souls and reclaim everything that was taken. Sharing my story helps me heal a little bit more every time and helps me retain self-respect, self-love, self-worth, dignity, and confidence. Anything else on this earth is not as valuable!